by Ryan Attard
"We are required to record every piece of new information we think of in our daily lives. Every bout of enlightenment, every new discovery or observation," Legolas explained in a low voice as we watched Vensir diligently pouring their thoughts over the workstations and the small Sentinels scuttling about like ants in a colony.
"This way, none of our knowledge is ever momentary," he added. "Once enough data has been placed within the hub, the library Sentinels would automatically cross-reference it for accuracy and link up with the author's Sentinel for confirmation of the information." He looked around and smiled proudly. "It is marvelous, isn't it? I, myself, am required to record everything I see beyond the Citadel gates and of course, every interaction I have with you."
"What do you say about me?" I asked.
"That is only for the High Council to see," the Vensir replied. "Anything that has to do with Central or the worlds beyond our own is in the Forbidden Archives."
"Sounds intriguing." I let out a soft sight, already knowing the answer to my next question. But, hey, can't hurt to ask, right? "I don't suppose you could show me these Forbidden Archives?"
Legolas smiled. "Of course."
Well, color me surprised.
Chapter 24
When one hears the words 'forbidden archives,' one immediately gets these images of dark, dusty places lined with old volumes and scrolls and perhaps the odd, grizzled, bearded wizard in the corner researching ancient volcano-forged rings.
That wasn't the case here.
It was just another bookcase, one set at the farthest wall from the entrance, surrounded by a giant, thick wall of white mortar. The room itself was circular, with shelves all round it and a giant column in the middle. The column too was lined with smaller shelves. This one held a bunch of those oval things the skinny Sentinels were carrying for the library residents. What really caught my attention, though, were the books—actual books. Thick dusty volumes that looked like they had come straight from the Harry Potter prop room. There were scrolls too. Honest-to-God scrolls made from yellowed parchment, bound in a roll by faded ribbons.
As I said before, I'm not a library guy.
Scratch that.
I was loving this library.
I took a couple of steps forward, completely enamored by the sheer beauty and mystique of the room, when my Vensir guide suddenly stopped me with a hand to the chest.
"Be careful," he said nodding towards the archway that served as an entrance.
My eyes settled on the myriad of symbols, too small to be recognizable, unless you know exactly what to look for. They were wards, meant to keep everything out of the room no matter how big or small. I focused my senses and saw it: a thin sheet of energy that ran from the very top of the arch all the way to the bottom. A force field. I saw the energy running up and then down, looping at high speeds—enough to shred anyone or anything.
I nodded at Legolas. "Thanks man. Wouldn't wanna get caught up in that."
He nodded and gazed around casually.
"So how does one get in there?" I asked.
He gave me an intense look. "No one is allowed within the Forbidden Archives. Not even I, a High Council member, am allowed inside. There are a total of three Vensir who can access beyond this point,” he said, waving his hand lightly at the force field. "Only Vensir chosen by the God King through Central may enter and gaze upon the secrets inside. They simply order the Sentinels in the library to lower the wall." He leaned in slightly as if to share a clandestine secret. "I have seen it happen once. I cannot explain how but the Sentinel simply obeyed the will of the King through the chosen Vensir. It was quite spectacular."
"Uh huh," I said.
I didn't like this. Will of the God King? That just didn't seem right to me. I mean don't get me wrong; I've seen some magical stuff happen around me but most of it can be explained, quantified and often replicated. This blind belief crap was just dumb. How can you trust something you don't even understand?
But I couldn't just tell him that. Brainwashed people don't listen to reason, especially if they have been fed that bullshit before their first diaper change. So instead of trying to break walls I knew were never going to give, I chose to focus my attention on the Forbidden Archives. My Vensir guide had already told me that if I were to ever find a reference to the outside world, it would be inside this place. Which meant I had to get in, force field or not.
We were about to walk away and head on with the rest of the tour when something caught my eye. It was a normal book, with a thick cover made from hide or leather. There was nothing special about the book. The title, however, was a completely different story. I couldn't make most of it but one word stuck out from the rest:
Wyrloga.
To any other wizard or magic practitioner, that word meant next to nothing. In fact, had it not been for my specific upbringing, I would have chalked it up to just another Vensir word. Except it wasn't a Vensir word.
It was English.
Old, really-freakin'-old English. Maybe even Gaelic. And it wasn't a nice word either. It was used as a derogatory term for my people, until later on it had lost its esoteric meaning and regular people of an age long past simply used it as a curse word.
Wyrloga.
Warlock. Oath Breaker.
"Erik," Legolas called out. "Is something the matter?"
I jogged up to him. I liked this guy but he was way too stoic, and letting him know that I was interested in something specific meant he would have more of a reason to stay on guard against me trying to break in.
"You said that only three Vensir ever made it inside that place," I said casually. "So who are they?"
"Three of the oldest High Council members. You met all three of course, during your judgment."
He mentioned them by name but there was no way I could pronounce them. Vensir used a wider sound spectrum than us humans. I guess that explained the weird elf ears.
But it didn't matter. I knew the guys he was referring to. Specifically, I knew of one guy he was referring to: the old guy. The really, really old guy who took charge during my judgment, or whatever the hell that was, and granted me access to live in the Citadel.
The old guy liked me. And if I could sweet-talk him into it, maybe he could let me tag along with him and I could swipe the book or something. It was worth a shot. Now all I had to do was keep an eye out for him.
"Shall we continue our tour?" Legolas asked.
"Sure," I replied. "Why don't we pitch up at the town square?"
"Pitch up?"
"It means 'go.'"
Legolas shook his head. "Our Sentinels can only translate the purest form of the language. Slang and dialects are not recognized."
So if I wanted to confuse him, all I had to do was talk like Chris Tucker in Rush Hour.
"Why do you wish to visit the plaza?" he asked.
Because when I had first seen the Citadel from the hills, there had been a large concentration of Vensir there. Chances were that the old guy would be there—it was just a matter of probability. But I really couldn't tell Legolas that. There's a reason they call it a secret plan.
So I flashed him my brightest smile. "Because that's where most of the population would be. And since I'm going to be staying here I might as well make as many friends as I can."
Yeah. And I had to say that with a straight face.
Legolas, not knowing my true, grumpy, somewhat anti-social personality, surprised me for the second time that day and bought that My Little Pony crap hook, line and sinker.
"I am glad to hear you say that," he said. "Let's go. I'm sure everyone is eager to meet you."
***
The piazza was a circular space in the middle of the Citadel, surrounded by stalls and workstations. Countless Vensir worked on jewelry and those magic bracelets, as well as a few studded belts, pieces of armor and even a few weapons. Legolas had explained that the Vensir could not use magic but they could have their weapons or other objects blessed by the God King a
nd use certain powers through those objects.
Back in my world we call them Channels: stuff that can contain and channel magic. Hence the name. We're clever that way.
But for something like this Central thing to give out that much magical power to so many different objects was quite impressive. You're talking about quality and quantity here. The more I kept hearing about Central, the more I yearned to check it out. Something that powerful could actually be the catalyst for opening the portal.
But first, I had a library to infiltrate.
We found the old guy about five minutes after we showed up. He was sitting down with another Council member who stood up and left with a slight bow. I waved at the old man and he, in turn, waved us over.
"Come sit with me, my friends," he said. "Have a drink. It is quite refreshing, especially on a nice day such as this one."
A young Vensir female brought over a tray with three identical cups filled with a pale green liquid that looked just about as refreshing as a bowl of pus. Still, after watching Legolas and the old guy take a gulp with gusto I tentatively took a sip.
I was wrong. Pus would taste better. I decided that if I talked enough perhaps that would excuse me from drinking that green crap.
"We took a tour of the Archives today. Quite a library you got there," I said.
"I have spent many days there myself," the old Vensir replied. He nodded at his Sentinel, which hovered at the edge of the table in hummed silence. "My Sentinel is full of copies and entries. There is simply too much knowledge for one mind to fully appreciate." He said that with a mischievous smile, like a kid in a toy store who knows he can't have everything but nonetheless enjoys being surrounded by toys.
"I am particularly impressed by the Forbidden Archives," I said carefully. "There are books there. It's what whole libraries are made of where I come from."
"Impressive."
"I was wondering if maybe I could have a closer look at some of the material there," I said. "If all your knowledge of the outside world is there, then there's a good chance the answer I seek is in there as well."
The old Vensir nodded meekly. "Yes, there is knowledge of the outside world there, but access to the Archives can only be granted by Central. If the God King doesn't tell us to go there, then we simply do not."
"Look man, I don't mean to bust your balls or anything here. I just wanna go home."
"I understand," the old guy replied. His voice took an authoritative stance, just like the tone he used when he was passing judgment. "However, you are human, an outsider we have welcomed to our Citadel. You are friend to the Vensir and their kin. But you must abide by our laws, so long as you choose to stay within this city. And that is simply the way of things."
I blinked twice at him, dumbfounded. The one guy I thought could provide me with a safe way home just gave me the 'you live under my roof, you live by my rules' speech.
See? This is why I rebel. I'm just a victim of circumstance here.
But right then there was nothing I could do but sit back and sulk. I played with my disgusting green drink, tracing my finger on the cup to avoid giving the old Vensir too many glares.
"Have you made preparations for the Verdurous Moon yet?" the old guy asked.
My guide nodded. "We have strengthened all our defenses and every Vensir trained in battle will be alert after sunset."
"Good."
"So what happens tonight?" I asked. "You guys expecting an attack?"
The old man nodded. "Tonight is the Verdurous moon. When that occurs, the Wild become very agitated and particularly violent. No one will be permitted to leave the Citadel after sunset because of the sheer danger."
A million warning signs flashed off at once. For one thing, what he described could very well be a full-on siege. But what really bothered me was the name: Verdurous Moon.
It sounded way too similar to Verdant Moon: the video game the Black Ring Society was using to brainwash magic users. Was it just a coincidence that the name was similar? In my world coincidences rarely exist.
Maybe there was a reason why the Black Ring Society had picked that particular name for its game. Maybe it was some sort of sick nod to this event happening right here, in the dimension they were crashing into the Earth. Maybe the leader that Luke the Pyromancer had mentioned knew this was going to happen.
Maybe I've been playing their sick game all along.
I sucked in a deep breath and attempted to quell the panic rising in my head. I turned to the Vensir in front of me and asked, "And you guys just sit tight and sharpen your spears?"
"They have never invaded the Citadel but they do gather around the outer walls," Legolas replied. "It never hurts to be prudent."
"You know we have a saying in my world: the best defense is a good offense. You guys should just take the fight-"
And that's when one of the old Council Vensir out on the street went ape-shit crazy.
It started with a lot of wailing and flailing of hands. The aged, grizzled Vensir was busy perusing a basket of weirdly-shaped green fruit (maybe that's what they made that disgusting drink from) when he let out a gut-wrenching scream. The basket went sailing over the length of the piazza as the old guy began having an epileptic fit.
I felt a surge of magic explode from the guy. Instincts, honed over a couple decades-worth of dealing with monsters on a daily basis, took over and I immediately crouched into a fighting stance. Whatever magic this guy was emitting it made my magic react; and after looking around, expecting everyone to lose their shit, I was genuinely perplexed by the lack of reaction. Everyone just stood there, their gaze slightly averted, never making direct eye contact with the rampaging Vensir.
It was almost as if they expected this to happen.
Meanwhile, the Vensir had made it to the very middle of the piazza, where he stood clawing at his face and body, screaming his lungs out.
"What the fuck?" I turned towards Legolas who stood silent with his eyes averted, but still keeping the mad Vensir in his peripheral vision. "Why aren't you guys helping him?"
He gave me something resembling a reproachful look and remained silent.
The mad Vensir's Sentinel shook itself to life and electricity coursed through the pike it held in bright blue and yellow arcs. It jammed the weapon into the Vensir's back sending the old guy sprawling onto the ground in spasms.
"Hey, what the-" I felt a hand on my shoulder. Legolas shook his head.
"They are restraining him," he said. "This is for his own protection."
Before I could do or say anything, three more Sentinels showed up, and each jammed a pike into the Vensir, electrocuting him. He struggled back, even managed to knock one of the Sentinels over but in the end the robots managed to overwhelm him.
I felt another spike of magic but this time it was from the Sentinels. They embedded their weapons inside each of the Vensir's limbs and I felt a fresh wave of magic. A light green aura surrounded the Vensir, immobilizing him. They lifted their pikes, and the old guy with them, and proceeded to slowly carry him away.
"What the hell just happened?"
"It happens sometimes, usually to the more venerable of us," Legolas replied. "Especially during these times."
"This Verdurous Moon thing?" I asked.
He nodded and gazed at the Sentinels dragging the Vensir away.
I was about to ask where were they taking him when I noticed something strange about the old Vensir. It contrasted heavily with the Vensir's pristine white garments. A single bone of obsidian black, jutting from the Vensir's back. One of the Sentinels noticed the barren bone and moved so as to obstruct anyone from seeing it but it was too late. My mind immediately brought back memories of that monster I fought when I first met Legolas and his flunkies.
A black bone. Just like the ones I had seen on the Wild.
Chapter 25
I had to get out of there. I mean, yeah sure I've been saying that for the past two weeks while I was trapped on this fucking island in an extra
-dimensional plane, but now I really had to get out of here. It wasn't about doing things slow anymore. Fact of the matter was, nothing was safe on this island: not the Wurms, not the Sahuagin, and especially not the Vensir. After what I saw at the piazza I was more than certain that these elf-looking folks had a deep dark secret and some shit was going down tonight.
And I definitely did not want to stick around for that.
So here was my game plan. As far as I could calculate I had about four hours before midnight, which was just enough time to enact my plan. Step one involved getting into that library and the Forbidden Archives. I would stick to the books, since I knew I wouldn't be able to make heads or tails of those weird disc things. Hopefully what I needed would be written in English or some version of it.
Step two: get inside Central. If this so-called God King was there I needed to have a serious talk with him and maybe whack him in the face a few times.
Which brought me to step three, which was my favorite: adios creepy island, hello cheeseburger land.
But first things first. The Vensir had their toys and I had mine. I just had to get them back.
Part of my welcome package had been a Sentinel of my own. This hunk of gleaming silver steel followed me wherever I went, hovering slightly above the ground and emitting the faintest of hums. At first it was the coolest thing ever. I mean, I got my own personal robot; that’s every nerd's dream.